How My CI Ruined a Perfectly Good Cup of Sugar
by Bluejay141519
Summary: It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It was just a simple meet. No one was supposed to get hurt.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys I'm back! I'm on a role to! Once again you can owe this one to Bubbly because she gave me the prompt so...**

**Hope you like! And I hope its painfully aware to everybody that I don't own CPD or its characters...**

**Enjoy!**

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**Antonio's P.O.V.**

"Dude, how are you still alive?" Antonio asks as he watches Jay pour sugar into his coffee.

"What? I hate black coffee." He replies.

"Yes, but you just put like half a pound of sugar in there."

"So?"

"So?! You want some coffee with your sugar?" He grins.

"Only a little. There has to be room for milk to." Jay responds, as we exit the coffee shop.

"Ha! You add milk." I laugh at him.

"Like a champ."

"More like a wimp."

"Just because you can't handle some creamer in your coffee doesn't mean you have to start calling people names Antonio."

"Ok, Queen of England, you can take your creamer and shove it up your-"

"Dawson! We're in public! And its 8 in the morning, you think you could keep the swearing to a minimum?!" A new voice pops up in front of us. Erin Lindsay. In the flesh.

"Yes, M'am." I mutter under my breath.

"Hey, um not to be rude but aren't you supposed to be with Ruzek and Olinski?" Halstead questions his partner. Playing with fire.

"Yes, she is." Voight walks up behind here. "Move it, kid." She gives him a face before turning and walking across the street to where the rest other half of the team is.

We had split into two groups, both kinda spread apart, so that way we have full coverage of the pier. Apparently some major buyout is happening between two gangs. A trading of territory to settle disputes. The chief of police wanted us down here see if we could get an arrest or two. And to stop any violence that tends to happen at these social gatherings. Which is why we had to be at the office at the ungodly hour of 6 AM. Then be suited up and out here by 7.

I think between Jay, Ruzek and I we've drank half the coffee in Chicago. Ugh. And its only Tuesday. (But see its thursday and the linstead last night was just fantastic)

"How long do we have to be here?" It's been 5 hours since we've arrived. And odds are, either we missed the meet, or its not happening. At least, not here. Watch we are gonna leave and Platt's gonna tell us that there was this big bust across town with our key players in it. And it'll have happened this morning or something.

"As long as we need be." Voights gruff voice crackles over the little radio in my ear.

"Yeah, I know but how do we know this meet is actually happening? And why here?"

"Because." Halstead responds. "The Chinese cartel and the Green Dragons have never been subtle, nor do they have any plans of making peace anytime soon."

I cast him a sceptical look. "And how would you know that?"

He grins at me. "How do you think we knew that this was the meeting place?"

"Really?" I say, my voice the only thing showing how annoyed I am.

He laughs. "A CI of mine asked to meet a couple days ago. Normally I wouldn't because he always has another agenda, but according to his sister, he really needs the money he would get if his tip panned out. So we met, he told me it was going down, I tell Voight, Voight tells Commander Fischer, and boom! Here we are."

"Oh, so you got us into this?" Ruzek asks.

"Yes. I did. Because the commander is paying us overtime for today." The pause is audible as his words sink in.

"Like overtime rate for all day?" Adam inquires.

"Yep."

"Jay, have I ever told you how much I value you as a friend?"

"No, but you will when you buy the first round tonight." I do a little happy dance inside.

"Deal."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Jay Halstead who just gave us money and bought us drinks without spending a dime." I mutter. It earns a laugh. And not just from Jay.

"_They say we are who we are but we don't have to be…."_ A song starts playing in Halsteads pants. Oh _wow_, I'm never gonna get that image out of my head. HIS PHONE. I MEANT HIS PHONE. IT STARTED RINGIN- never mind.

He checks the number. And rolls his eyes.

"Is that your CI?" I ask, giving him a smirk at his ring tone.

"Yeah. Gimme a sec." As he walks away I hear him start to needle Lindsay.

"If you change my Ringtone one more time, I'm going to permanently sent yours to "Let it go."

"You wouldn't dare." Comes her response as Jay hits the answer button and starts to talk.

I can practically hear the face she's making at him. Voight joins me on the side walk.

"Who's he talking to?" He asks.

"His CI. Trying to find out about the meet." Voight's face is one of confusion and dread. "What?"

"There's no need. I just got off the phones with Commander Fischer. He said that the bust went down about 3 hours ago." I glance at Halstead.

"Then why are we just learning about it now?"

"Because the cell service was down. Apparently one of the towers or something was sabotaged." Realization dawns on his face.

"We were keep here on purpose." I state the obvious. Voight immediately grabs his radio.

"Pull back. Everybody find cover-" He's interrupted by the screeching of tires. A black van (let's get cliche shall we?) speeds down the street, side door open, guns out. But they're not firing. Which means they have a target and they won't shoot until they see it. See _him._

_Shit._

"Everybody down! Get down!" Voight is yelling now, trying to keep people safe but we have no time. The van is upon us, and all hell breaks lose. They start firing right as I locate Halstead.

"JAY!" He is crouched behind a grated steel coffee table, no gun, no cover, and no backup. Wide open. He hears my yell.

We make eye contact for a split second.

Before a second round of bullets slices through his chest.

**Jay's P.O.V.**

Let the record show that this is the _9th time_ Erin Lindsay has changed my ringtone. It's starting to piss me off.

"You wouldn't dare." She snaps.

"Watch me." I mutter as I hit answer. "Halste-"

"Halstead! Look man I'm so sorry! I didn't want to I swear!" My CI, Randy Foreman, former druggy then gang member, cuts me off. He sounds like he's crying.

"Do what? Randy, what's going on? Is the meet going down today or not?"

"It already happened!" _What?!_

"They were gonna kill me! I told you! I told you they don't let you outta the game!" He is definitely sobbing now.

"Damn it Foreman, what did you do?!"

"They found out I was a rat. Said if I got back into the gang and proved my loyalty they'd let me live!" Oh, you stupid, stupid kid. They're just going to kill you anyways. No way the gang that bets using the next kill instead of poker chips is going to let a rat go.

"Randy! _What did you do!"_

His voice replies, suddenly calm. "Are you still at the pier?"

_Son of a-_

Instantly I disconnect the call, drop the phone, and smash it under the heel of my boot. Prove his loyalty. They made him set me up to be killed. Or at least, somebody on my team.

My mouth opens to warn the intelligence, but the words die in my throat as I see a van speeding down the boulevard. They do not shoot until they are near me, and shoot they do. They come closer and instantly the small outdoor cafe is in panic. Cups shattering, food being tossed aside, coats and bags being left behind in the mad dash for safety. I grab the girl to me left, closer to the street, and pull her to the ground, flipping the table as I go. Not that is will be any cover. Its one of those round black plastic covered tables. You know, with the diamond shaped holes at the top. Useless.

As I'm searching for my gun, which I pulled after destroying my phone then somehow managed to lose while flipping the table, somebody screams my name, sounding oddly like Antonio. Wierd. I didn't know he could scream. Always thought the highest he got was a small yell. Anyway.

I locate him and Voight about 20 yards in front of me, crouched behind a concrete block that is somehow also a flower holder. Our eyes meet for a split second and I see that he knows these bullets are for me. I am about to yell something to him, I do not know what, when something like Thor's hammer slams onto my chest. It twists me around, flinging me on my left side. I am now _literally_ wide open. Although I am thinking that's not my main worry as I watch a pool of red slowly start to grow around me. Using my eyes I follow it to the source.

Well, shit then.

The source being two gory holes in my chest and one on the side of my arm. There is blood, a lot of it, and more is flowing out entirely to fast. I am dimly aware that there is less gunfire now, and there had been this buzzing on the radio. Maybe voices. Erin I think. Yes she is there. So is Ruzek and Olinski, yelling simultaneously. Voight calling for backup. Antonio is quiet, I can't hear him. Was he hit too?

I want to find out. To make sure they are ok. I refuse to let anyone take a bullet for me, ever again. I want to see them with my own eyes.

Really though, I just want to see again. The images that flash before me are not reality. I no longer see pavement and blood, but a crystal clear sky. From when I took Erin to the Sears Tower and we stared out the window for what seemed like forever.

Forever. That is how long this moment had been. I know no more than 3 minutes have gone by, yet it feels like an eternity. More things come, more places and people I see. The team in the bullpen. Ruzek and Olinski arguing about coffee. Voight next to Antonio explaining a case. Erin's lips. Her eyes.

Her beautiful grey eyes.

They are the last thing I see before I melt into the waiting oblivion.

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**If I get enough reviews I just might post another story tomorrow so...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Antonio's P.O.V.**

It is becoming apparent that Intelligences strong suit is controlled chaos. I swear, we all operate best after the shit hits the fan. Which was…..like right now.

"STATUS, STATUS!" Voight is screaming at everybody once the van is past us. I am still shooting, but I hear the responses of everyone else. Everyone except Jay.

"DAWSON, HALSTEAD STATUS!"

"No harm." I reply quietly, my eyes watching as the van gets smaller and smaller, then finally drifts around a corner and disappears.

"HALSTEAD!"

I respond for him, while running to the his general area.

"Sarge, he was hit. I saw it." Immediately Voight is by my side, telling the team to rondevu with us.

"Find him, Dawson." I give him a grim nod, but it may not be that easy. The small eatery is now a battle field, people dead, people dying. Blood is everywhere, covering everything. No one is unharmed. No one but us. And even then, not all of us. We're supposed to be the finest cops in the city, and we can't even protect our own. Pathetic.

I find him next to a sobbing girl in a yellow sun dress, just a dark lump of clothing. He is literally curled in a ball, like he's trying to sleep and the sun is in his face.

Slowly, gently, I roll him over onto his back. Then immediately search for the nearest trash can, because the site of Jay's chest is making my lunch want to reappear. Two bullet holes, one through his left lung, the other dangerously close to his heart. And, Jesus Christ, the blood. Covering his shirt, soaking his jacket, staining the ground beneath him. With more seeping from the wounds. There is no way someone can lose that much blood and live.

_Please, please, please. _I do a silent chant in my head as I move to fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. _C'mon Jay, don't do this to us._ He must know Lindsay would taze his ass, because there is a pulse. Albeit extremely weak and thready, but its there.

I think I laugh out loud.

I plunge into action, applying pressure to the hole above his heart, and radioing the team.

"Bring the Escalade to the front of the coffee shop." I command Ruzek.

"What-"

"JUST DO IT!" I basically roar into the mic. Olinski is has found me. Without hesitation he kneels, then puts pressure on his other wound. We glance at each. It's an unspoken message of guilt and determination. We will do everything humanly possible to keep Halstead alive.

Pounding of boots and more screeching tires. Music to my ears. The SUV parks itself right next to us. Alvin, whom not only picked up on my plan, but is also much stronger than he looks, helps me. Together we cradle Jay's limp body and lift him. Voight grabs opens the trunk right as Lindsay arrives. Her face instantly drains of color upon the sight of her dying partner.

"O my god-" She whispers, rushing toward him, but knowing enough not to touch him. Instead she runs for the backdoor of the car, rips it open, then starts folding the seats down to make a big enough space that we can have him almost flat but still be able to keep pressure on his wounds. Smart.

As we slid Halstead into the back, Adam decides to ask a simple but deadly question.

"Why not just call a bus?"

Four pairs of eyes scream murder at him. Olinski is the only to answer and even then its like shooting daggers.

"Does it _look_ like he has time to wait for an ambulance?!" Al hisses at his partner as I climb in the trunk, sitting so I can try and stop any more blood from flowing out of his body. Olinski gets in, Voight shuts the trunk, climbs in the drivers seat, then starts the car in record time. Ruzek must scramble to make it into the passengers seat before Hank peels away from the curve and toward Chicago med.

It is only now, while we're in the back of a speeding vehicle, (probably driving on the wrong side of the street knowing Voight) that I finally get a good look at Halstead. Face pale, eyes closed, lips blue. It's weird. He looks like a little kid when he's sleeping. Or unconscious. Whichever.

"His arm is bleeding." Erin says softly. Slowly, as though she's afraid she will hurt him more, she wraps her hands around a gash on his upper bicep, where more blood has flowed down his arm Good god, how much blood does this kid have?

I check his pulse again. For one terrifying second I can't find anything. Then I feel a steady thrum that has somehow managed to get weaker since the last time I checked.

"C'mon Voight he doesn't have much longer." I warn him.

"You think I'm not trying?! I didn't even know there were this many traffic laws TO break!"

Ruzek was being smart for the first time today, calling the ahead to the hospital, explaining everything. Lindsay is silently crying, while running a shaky hand through his hair. She glances down the rest of his body, then returns to his face.

"You're gonna be ok. You're gonna be ok." She repeats it, over and over, like if she says it enough times her words can heal him. But they can't. Nothing she does or says can help him and she knows it. So it breaks her.

We are close, I recognize some of the street names. If my teammate wasn't dying I might reflect on why I know the names of the streets surrounding chicago med, but he is. And there's my answer.

We pull into the little loading bay thingy that ambulances go. I look him over again. I don't think he's breathing.

There are doctors and nurses with a gurney and the moment the trunk is open they take him. Hands replace ours, applying pressure. Doctors give orders, an IV is inserted into his wrist, they push him through a set off double doors labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and he's gone.

Just like that. Taken to surgery. I-_We_ may never see him alive again. All because of a gang decided to get its hate on for cops.

These are the days I hate my job. And I hate the people that make our job necessary. But mostly, right now I hate myself for bringing the kid into the unit. If I hadn't maybe he'd be safe right now. Maybe he'd be healthy. Alive.

It's been over 5 hours since Jay Halstead was admitted to the OR of Chicago Medical. He had lost over 4 pints of blood and wasn't breathing. And that's all they know at this point. Nurse's exact words.

_Damn it._

I still can't wrap my head around the fact the he got shot. I never thought about it, but that kid acted like he could do anything. And for some stupid Antonio Dawson reason, I guess I believed him.

I never washed my hands. None of us did. I'm pretty sure we are scaring the other people here because we're all just sitting in chairs, our hands covered in blood, totally lost in thought. Like victims of a train wreck. Ha. My life is a train wreck. So that's a pretty accurate statement. At least for me.

I'm so lost in thought (evidently so is everyone else) that I don't notice the doctor emerge, I don't notice Voight stand and I don't notice them having a conversation. I only notice him come back with barely suppressed relief on his face. We stand.

"He's alive."

The tension leaves the room with an audible whoosh. However he's not finished.

"Two bullets, One hit a lung, the other hit an artery and was lodged near his heart. They were able to get all the fragments out and repair the damage to his chest, along with some stitches on his arm where a third bullet grazed him. That being said he flatlined twice and lost a lot of blood."

"But he's okay, right?" Erin cuts him off before he can continue the gore story. Voight gives her a tiny little voight smile.

"Room 304. And be quick, the visiting hours are almost over." She does a little sob/laugh and smiles, before jogging down the hall to her partner. The team split in various direction, some going home, others to the bathrooms to wash their hands, and some to the coffee machine; leaving me alone in the waiting room.

I just stand there. And smile for the first time today.

_**FIN**_

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**For the record this is the last chapter. So it's finish. As is Stop and Stare. I think. Yes. It is. Ok well I will post another little one-shot on Tuesday for y'all. **

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